


Of tattered journals

by TaillessGiraffe



Series: Julia Gallanis [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Character Development, Gen, brynjolf may use the word kid and girl every so often but Julia's 19 in this, he thinks himself old and wise and calls everyone younger than 30 a 'kid', just saying
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:46:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaillessGiraffe/pseuds/TaillessGiraffe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just her dastard's luck, that every escape route she had taken would ultimately lead to even greater commitments. {Narrates the events prior to 'Burnt Out', relating Julia's stay in the Thieves Guild. Might contain OCs and mature content in future chapters.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was easy to judge the kid at first glance. There was a certain repressed anger constantly tightening her strong features wherever she went that made people think it twice before speaking, least she lashed at them. She stood like a sabre cat about to pounce their next meal, shoulders square, jaw clenched and blue eyes always bright and alert.

That was his first impression, the day they met, when he caught a glimpse of her face, new among the same boring crowd that populated Riften, much like a brush-stroke of red against a black canvas. It took him a few seconds and for her to come nearer to realize he was looking at a young woman, and not a boy in his teens.

He would have also taken her for a warrior, or at least an apprentice, considering the scarcely sufficient mass of her muscles and given the armor and the sheathed swords resting on both sides of her waist. But then he saw her hand, its gliding fast enough to rival that of a Spadetail, coming out of Nivenor's bag belt, who obliviously appraised the argonian jeweler's work with half-lidded eyes, and he whistled his admiration.

He still couldn't help but cackle when not a second after checking the contents of the small coin purse her head fell back and her shoulders dropped, frustration written all over her face. Definitely new in town if she didn't know about Nivenor's passion for expensive ornaments.

Her head snapped in his direction as soon as the ugly laughter escaped his mouth, quickly looking away and hiding the purse somewhere under her fur coat.

He approached her, then, noticing as he got closer the precarious state of her leather, clumsily patched up and burnt in impossible places, and the numerous clues - from the dark rings around her eyes to the weeds still clinging to her frizzy dark hair- that made it plain to see the girl hadn't slept on anything similar to a bed in days. Brynjolf didn't need to be a scholar to guess she stole out of necessity, and not by choice, a possible impediment for what he had in mind.

But he had been pleasantly surprised in past occasions.

She was reluctant to listen to what he had to say, waving him off with a sneer and a grunt. Had the guild been in a better position, he would have stopped bothering after that first refusal, but in their present status they just  _had_  to seize every opportunity within reach. That's exactly why he found himself trotting after her, carefully but firmly grabbing her shoulder - dumb move - as he worked his charm to the best of his abilities.

The reaction was instant, her whole body going stiff and a side-eye glance  _piercing_  the back of his hand.

Being this close he got a clear sight of the light scars running the length of her right cheek, half-covered by the grime. And he wasn't easily intimidated, especially not by someone brushing her twenties, but at that moment it would have been foolish to not withdraw, and he was many things, but a fool wasn't one.

He tried to cool things down, took a step back, attempted to make her see it was for her own interest, but she only dismissed him with a last warning and stomped off, choking back a chesty cough and heading to the city's gate. Leaving behind a strong scent of sweat, of copper- and of ashes.


	2. Chapter 2

To see her again at the market the following morning caught him off guard, especially when after much looking around her eyes settled on him. Noticing her wariness - she was obviously doing this against her better judgment - he decided to give her a break and was the first to speak, casually asking if she had changed her mind, as though she hadn't threatened with ripping him a new one just the day before.

The thief thought she would leave in a huff again after giving her the details. Apparently the lass still held onto a few morals, couldn't process the idea of framing an innocent man.

Brynjolf acted fast, trying to connect with her before she retreated, admitting this job had its ups and downs, but that they didn't really  _hurt_  anybody, not the way a blade did- and think about it, what if that purse you stole yesterday had been full of gold for starving kids or a remedy for a dying parent? She had chosen her mark through her attires, never stopping to think about equities; in the end, both of them worked by self-inflicted rules. Besides, the city's cells were a few while its criminals just kept growing in number. The mer wouldn't stay jailed for long, the petty robbery of a ring being nothing compared to what he had seen happen inside these walls.

A wink here and a smirk there added into the mix, and the girl was in for the test.

But even then she hesitated, hidden behind the pile of boxes where Brand-shei was sitting, and Brynjolf stammered during his speech, his smile faltering as he wondered if his eye for latent talent was finally beyond its better years. Another failure they all would sadly laugh about at the cistern. He exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding once she finally finished the job, giving him a signal before slipping away.

He did his best to not let much of his enthusiasm show, knowing she still had to prove her whole potential, and directed her to The Ragged Flagon, promising to tell her more about the business if she could make it.


	3. Chapter 3

Brynjolf didn't doubt for a second she would succeed, of course, regardless of his partners' pessimism. There was something,  _savage_ , about her that made a pair of bandits and some lunatic sound as dangerous as a mudcrab. The jaundiced-looking bandages draping her arms and legs and the black-and-blue bruises adorning her cheeks a tell-tale his disciplined eyes had read effortlessly: pigheaded daredevil. Bordering on suicidal. Nothing some small adjustments couldn't mend, in any case.

The ginger couldn't contain his wolfish grin when she finally arrived, in one piece and with fresh dark stains of blood glistening on her gauntlets. He wasn't keen on recurring to violence, often confiding in his tongue and his feet to get him out of any mess- but that wasn't always a possibility, and he appreciated a lass who knew how to swing her blade should the situation require it.

She was tense, aware of being under the thieves' scrutinizing gaze, so he rushed to give her a few errands- easy enough jobs to get a taste of what it was all about, and sent her off.

He had wanted to brag about his accurate aim as soon as the door closed behind her, but it would have been presumptuous of him to celebrate so early. Who knew? Maybe the girl would doubt again and definitely change her mind. The way her lips had curled in disapproval as he had exposed the details for her trial assignments was a clear giveaway of her persistent scruples. So he opted to just flash them with a self-satisfied smirk for the time being, and left to inform Mercer of his new find.

The sullen guildmaster wasn't too excited about the news- then again Brynjolf hadn't expected any different, knowing it impossible to truly please the breton. The grey haired man didn't even bother to peel his eyes off the guild's ledger as Brynjolf informed him about the girl's earlier success. He didn't know better back then, so he often blamed his boss's mood and introversion on the guild's recent streak of bad luck. Still he reluctantly agreed on allowing the new promise to join once she was back, but made it clear that she would have to work her backside off to prove herself worthy of their outfit- and, most importantly, his time.

That same night she returned, along with good news, and he finally indulged himself to feel the euphoria that came with a new initiate, asking for the first time since their encounter for her name.

'Julia' she replied, forcing through a tight smile that faded a second after.

Brynjolf invited her to sit down and have a drink before meeting the boss -  _all on him!_ \- prancing to the table and ordering the Man a pair of bottles of mead before she had time to respond. He was already sitting as she faltered towards the chair, shaking her head and opening her mouth as if to speak, probably to turn down his offer, but then she eyed the drinks in Vekel's hands and her mouth closed, murdering her refusal and finally letting herself fall onto the seat, her worn-out armor creaking and her legs' joints cracking all at once in an throbbing symphony. She rolled her shoulders with a tired groan, thanking the bartender with a sharp nod.

The thief feared she would choke on the beverage, the bottle a perfect perpendicular to her mouth as she drunk it whole in one go. He flashed a look at Vekel, gesturing at him with a quick tilt of the head to bring in another bottle- something to eat as well. Vekel chuckled, nodding in compliance, and bent under the bar in search of something that could pass as a half-decent meal. The ginger took then a fast look around as Julia let out a satisfied gasp from her seat, noticing how everybody tried to look absorbed in different activities or casual conversation as they covertly watched the new face, some with curiosity, some with suspicion, Vex and Tonilia being in the last group. And who could blame them- Brynjolf's last "promising initiates" had disappeared as soon as they were given the new armor, taking with them Tonilia's scarce gold and half of Vekel's supplies.

That's why everybody had cheered the day little Vex came back telling about her fortunate meeting with one of said promises, travelling down the road to Whiterun, and commenting with humorous banter about how they were apparently trying to pursue their own method now as she let a worse for wear guild outfit slump on Tonilia's lap, and a few gold coins fall on top of it.

But there was something different about this one, he knew it- and this time it was for real.

Ten minutes later she was taking the last bites from Vekel's improvised menu of the day, which consisted of a plate with a wedge of cheese, a hunk of bread and a sliced carrot- although anybody would have taken it for a venison chop, the way she anxiously devoured it.

She was so focused on the task she had yet to acknowledge the redhead, who was waiting and observing in amused silence, which she didn't until she had munched down on the last piece of carrot and restrained a burp closing her mouth. She then leaned back in the chair, sighing satisfyingly, her features momentarily relaxing and soon returning to that constant furrowing he was already growing accustomed to.

'Thanks. Been days since I eat like this.' she mumbled, making an obvious effort to not look at the thieves surrounding them, a light embarrassment shading her cheeks.

Brynjolf waved it off. 'No need, lass. Would've been awkward to have your stomach barking halfway your first meeting with the boss.' he laughed, but she didn't follow. She cleared her throat, sitting upright with more creaking from her leather, no humor in her gestures. He would have to work his way through that shield one way or another.

'Did they put up much of a fight?' he asked, crossing arms over his chest.

'Huh? Ah, no.' she answered, absent-mindedly fiddling with her gauntlets. 'It was just two of them, didn't really see me coming- had to get rid of some  _skeevers_  on the way.' she said, the way she muttered the word giving him room to wonder if giant rodents were by any chance their new recruit's pet peeve.

Seeing how easily she grew irritated, he knew better than to press it, if that was the case, and simply snorted. 'Didn't think for a second those would be any trouble for you. I meant the- ah, other business.'

'Ah.' and she looked aside, flattening her hands on the table. 'No. That went fine, as well.'

Brynjolf waited and, seeing she didn't plan to make any further comments, inclined his head, his smile widening. 'And?'

'Hm?'

'Well, tell me more!' he said cheerfully. 'I'd like to hear how you dealt with the problem, being your first official job.'

'Isn't your guildmaster waiting?'

His expression hardly shifted at her sudden change of subject, excepting the light twitch of his eyebrow. He could hear Vekel rustling behind the bar, muffling a chuckle.

Allright, step by step it is, he told himself.

'You mean  _our_  guildmaster.' he complied, there was plenty of time to prod it out of her, and scoffed 'But first- we need to clean you up.' rising from his seat and gesturing at Tonilia to get the gear ready.


	4. Chapter 4

Julia left to take a fast bath in Lake Honrich when she was given the new outfit, and the guild members instantaneous reaction was to huff with resignation and scratch her out as yet another of Bryn's latest failures. The red haired nord exhaled long and loudly.

'Mara's tits, you are a bunch of downers. The lass was so covered up in grime you could hardly see her face. Give her a chance.'

'If she's not back in an hour, I'm going after her.' Vex growled, jabbing her dagger into the table's surface in one swift motion to punctuate her statement and ignoring Vekel's annoyed complaint.

Delvin was next to speak, his comment for Vex but his crooked smile directed at Brynjolf. 'Go straight for the road, then. This one won't even need to stop at the tavern. She left with a full belly.'

The second-in-command squinted his eyes and sarcastically grinned as any response, his expression blanking again as he looked back to the Ratway's entrance. An uncontrollable twitch took over his leg, under the table. As hard as he tried to stay positive, he couldn't help but think of the worse outcomes. And how, would it come down to that again, he'd personally chase the girl and get back their gear and any gold she'd carry.

It was exhausting, to be the only one giving hope to what everyone else depicted as a lost cause, and he was tired of being the source of all the eye-rolling and head-shaking. It would be a lot easier to just give up and join their abdication. Even their leader had opted to withdraw, leaving Brynjolf, second-in-command, completely in the dark as to what were his plans, if any, to fix their current situation. And yet, he kept trying to bring their little family some faith. Didn't he deserve a bit of respect? Wasn't their organization worth the effort?

His leg stopped twitching as soon as he felt a hand squeezing his shoulder, and he looked up to see Tonilia's sympathetic frown. 'Brynjolf, face it. Those days are over.'

The ginger rolled his eyes, looking back to the door. 'I'm telling you, this one, she's different.' and he heard Tonilia's sighing tiredly behind him, letting go of his shoulder with a light push and going to sit at the bar.

'We all have heard that before.' chuckled Dirge from his spot, shaking his head. 'Quit kidding yourself, Bryn. The longer you keep this up, the harder the fall is going to be each time.'

'Aye, friend. It's better to just accept it.' Vekel joined, serving Tonilia a mug of mead. 'You, Vex, Mercer... you're all part of a dying breed.'

Brynjolf's jaw clenched, his grip on his arms so tight his knuckles were bone white. He was about to mutter a half-hearted retort, remind them that if it hadn't been for his obstination they wouldn't count with lads like Thrynn or Rune in their ranks- when the door to the Ratway creaked open.

He nearly jumped off the chair at the sound, an involuntary smile close to splitting his face in half as Julia made her way into the cistern, stumbling clumsily with a huge back bag hunching her forward. He took a moment to relish the look of surprise on the thieves' faces and then took a deep breath to steady his nerves, welcoming the new recruit with a calmer smile as she lurched past Dirge, eyeing the silent bouncer with caution. The muscular nord never broke eye contact, following her every step.

Once she was up close, Brynjolf noticed her damp hair and slight shuddering, the way she clasped onto the bag's straps as she attempted to dissimulate it. Without all that filth layering upon her skin, her cyrodiilic features were unbelievably obvious, just like her terrible juvenescence. She really couldn't be older than 20, and he didn't need to wonder why someone so young seemed to carry such emotional weight. He had seen with his own eyes just what this land could do to someone in incredibly short periods of time. He fleetingly remembered the day he found Sapphire by the side of that road, covered in bruises and blood that wasn't entirely her own.

Hopefully the new kid's history wouldn't be similar.

'Not the best season for a bath in the lake, eh?' he joked.

She tilted her head with a expression leaning closer to a grimace than to a smile, looking extremely tired. Some of the surrounding thieves laughed quietly.

'Can I just- can I leave this here?' she huffed, taking off the bag before he had time to reply.

'Sure. Right there.' he replied, and she let the sack fall unceremoniously on top of one of the surrounding tables, nearly cracking it in half. 'Shor's Bones, lass. What is that carrying?'

She rubbed her lower back, stretching with a grunt. 'Armor.'

Tonilia eyed the sack with hunger, one eyebrow raised. The new recruit turned to face the red haired thief, warily clutching her sleeve and stretching the loose fabric.

'By the way, I think this isn't the right size. It hardly fits me.'

At that the thieves laughed louder, and she looked around her, pursing her lips with unease. Brynjolf checked and confirmed: her frame hardly filled their outfit's taut network. He waved a hand to take importance off the matter. 'Don't worry about that. You'll grow into it after some training, I'm sure.'

'Besides, I don't have anything smaller.' amusedly commented Tonilia, raising her mug. 'Vex over there has the same exact size.' she pointed at the silver haired imperial with a nod, 'And it fits her just fine. It's like Brynjolf said, you'll grow into it.' she shrugged, turning back to the bar and drinking from her cup.

Julia flashed a look at Vex, who didn't return it, and looked down at her outfit again, nodding, although skeptical. 'Yeah, alright.'

Brynjolf impatiently clapped his hands together in that moment, grasping her attention.

'Tailoring matters apart- I'd say that now you're all clean and geared, it's finally time to meet your boss.'


	5. Chapter 5

The scene would have struck him as hilariously surreal, if it hadn't been for the more than palpable ropes of tension keeping him tied to the spot. Guildmaster and new initiate stood face to face, both their scowls and body language making them look not unlike a mirror reflection - by Lady Luck's cloak, they even shared similar facial scars.

However, while Mercer's stand was defined by his inherent indifference, Julia's exuded an evident unrest. The girl's pose was rigid, calculated, arms stretched and fists tightly closed. It was clear she didn't like being under the guildmaster's examination but, perhaps for Brynjolf's sake, was doing her best to look the part. Just like a war-dog would as the trainer calls the roll.

Her eyes darted from Mercer's squint to his own every few seconds, obviously disconcerted by the awkward silence, and Brynjolf could do nothing but signal at her with a meaningful lift of his brow to wait for the guildmaster's verdict. Julia noticed even more new faces around them, surreptitiously watching the scene, standing around the circular shallow pool. When Mercer finally spoke, he adressed Brynjolf, nonchalantly turning his face away from the new recruit.

' _This_ , is your  _new promise_?'

Julia's mouth twitched upward at the contemptuous pronoun, and Brynjolf rejoined before she could voice her surely incautious thoughts.

'She's successfully taken care of those nuisances we were discussing this morning, Mercer. All on her own, too.'

Mercer promptly rebutted. 'Nuisances you were responsible for and could have easily solved, if you weren't so busy searching for...  _kids_ , to bring into our order.' he made it a point to dispatch her a cursory sidelong glance before looking back to his second-in-command. 'Should I remind you, what exactly happened with the last two brats you so altruistically picked from the streets?'

The redhaired nord shifted his weight from one foot to the other, plainly irked by the recurring incrimination. 'I admit I wasn't on the right track with my last recruitments. And I've already apologized to the guild for the inconveniences-'

'And yet here we are, welcoming another might-be into our lines.' he ironically announced, interrupting him, and turning to speak directly to her for the first time since they had been presented, curtly asking 'How old are you?'

The young imperial was caught by surprise, having been silently witnessing their discussion until then, and actually had to ponder on the simple question before replying, clumsily tripping over her tongue. 'I-I'm, eight- nine, nineteen, sir.' Her face furrowed at his scoffing cackle.

'Nineteen! This is rich. Just, rich.'

Brynjolf quickly intervened, the ropes of tension now imprisoning. 'I don't think this is a question of age, Mercer. Many of us joined the guild at a younger age.'

The guildmaster's head snapped in his direction, his imperturbable scowl masterly keeping a firm hold of the situation. He hissed between gritted teeth. 'That is  _ **not**_  the question. Things were different back then, and you know that as well as I do. What we need right now is  _actions_ , not possibilities. So when you told me you had found someone who could get us out of this downturn, I imagined someone who actually  _knew_  what they were doing.'

'What I meant is that a new face could probably bring some enthusiasm around here! And like I told you, she's managed just  _fine_  so far with what little assignments I've given her.' he replied, putting aside the menial fact that she had given him no details about how she had proceeded, 'With some training-'

'My point exactly. We don't need someone who  _manages_ , Brynjolf. We don't have the time neither the resources to waste on wannabe-thieves, we already lost enough of both with your last targets. This is  **not**  an academy, and we can't give shelter and supplies to every scruffy mugger you catch pickpocketing in the market.' he extended an open hand, gesturing at Julia, who looked at it as if it was a dagger. 'Because that's exactly how you found this one, wasn't it? You see a girl who barely counts as a grown-up rummaging through coin purses and your immediate conclusion is that she's going to save our whole organization- after  _ **some training**_.'

The second-in-command took a long, deep breath through his nose, already used to the breton's temper, but bewildered none the less. Today he was majorly crabbed, that much was evident, which was still no reason to demean his course of actions towards the guild, right in front of their new recruit- of everyone. He couldn't possibly expect Brynjolf to just sit and wait for things to get better while they kept asking him, the middleman, about their guildmaster's projects to restore their former reputation. However, his trail of thinking was cut short before he could voice his disagreement.

'With all due respect, sir.'

Both men turned their attention to the novice, whose posture hadn't shifted an inch from its initial attitude, aside from the weak twitching of her lower lip. She held Mercer's hard stare, her swollen eye opening lightly and about to close any second, but her gaze remaining unmovable. She spoke with deliberation, her nostrils flared.

'Prejudging my skills merely by how old I am seems hardly fair. You don't know me. Or my abilities. Sir.' she muttered the last bit, her lip curling just barely.

Definitely bordering on suicidal, was Brynjolf's immediate thought. Daring, which was good, but disastrous nevertheless. He heard the surrounding guild members murmuring among themselves, surely diverted with the spectacle.

'Lass, I don't-'

Brynjolf was interrupted once again, a spread finger from Mercer effectively seizing the reins of the situation. With two well placed steps, he was standing inches away from the young girl, his scowl casting shadow over his rough features. Julia stuck her chest out, in an attempt to maintain her stance, even though the feeble pursing of her lips was a give-away of her inner inquietude.

'Your age is solely a contributing factor.' he pronounced, his expression gradually morphing to a cutting sneer as he grounded the rest out, 'I don't need to know you, I can  _read you_  like an open book.  _First_ , your impertinence along with your both old and recent bruises speak of someone who has no sense of self-preservation- which, in our line of work, is a big drawback.  _Secondly_ , you walked in here, an isolated place full of strangers, without carrying a single weapon, so perhaps you're not entirely reckless but just purely naive, and neither traits are fit for someone within our guild. And  _thirdly_...' he drawled, his hand flinging upward, grabbing the belt of pockets around her waist and giving it a violent yank to spin it, making her momentarily lose her balance and muffle a surprised gasp, '... you're not even wearing this right.'

The girl bit her lower lip, holding back another chesty cough and flushing against her own will, trying her best to keep a solid frown as she rigidly stumbled to steady her feet. She couldn't hear any more the amused mumbling from their encircling public, and she didn't know if she preferred the expectant silence it had been replaced with. The guildmaster leaned back slightly, hands behind his back.

'The worst part is that I'm not even the expert at sizing people up around here. Your  _rescuer_  is.' he languidly gestured at the ginger behind him, 'That means that he already knows all of this and yet insists on making you go through this most assuredly embarrassing exam. So...!'

He wheeled around, standing again next to a clearly agitated Brynjolf, and turned to face Julia. 'Given his persistence on making you one of us, I can only assume he's seen something that I've missed.' he locked eyes with the second-in-command, and Brynjolf held his stare, unwavering, though unnerved. 'And I trust his intuition, notwithstanding its recent failures. That's why I'm going to step aside and grant you the chance of... proving me wrong.' he said, raising a skeptical eyebrow, ' _But_ , before we continue, let's make a few points perfectly clear. I don't know how you've been handling things until now, but here we have rules. You play by them, you walk away rich. You break the rules and you lose your share. No debates, no discussions. You do what we say, when we say. Do I make myself clear?'

Julia drew a deep breath, mentally counting to ten before nodding slowly. She had only known this man for scarcely ten minutes and he had already managed to push her every button. A dull ache was creeping its way to her temple.

'What's what?' he asked, not raising his tone a pitch.

_I said yes, you absolute son of a..._

'Yes. I understand, sir.'

She flashed a look at Brynjolf, who gave her a reassuring nod. Gesture Julia found ridiculous at the moment, considering he had indeed dragged her to face this distressing ordeal. He knew this would happen and had done nothing to-

_No. Calm down. You agreed on this. Calm down. Breath deep._

'Mercer, wait just a second.' he finally intervened, his voice not giving away a hint of nervousness. 'By proving you wrong, you don't mean...?'

The breton waved a dismissive hand at him. 'We'll talk about that later. I still have to check with our contacts and gather more detailed information. We can't afford another disaster. Until then, make sure to prepare yourself and put those abilities of yours up to date.' he commanded, speaking to Julia. 'And, do something about that cold. We keep the skeevers away from our quarters for a reason. The last thing the guild needs is an epidemic.'

She swallowed out of reflex, to sooth her irritated throat, and nodded gritting her teeth.

'I mean it. Don't think of sleeping here until you've gotten rid of it.'

'I'll take care of it, Mercer, don't worry about it.' commented Brynjolf, desperate to put an end to the introduction. 'Now, aren't you forgetting...?'

'Hmm? Oh, yes.' he sighed, rolling his eyes. 'Formalities... Like I said earlier, Brynjolf assures me you'll be nothing but a benefit to us. So you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.' he said, no trace of celebration registered in the announcement. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.'

And with not even a parting nod, he walked back to the desk, leaving Brynjolf and Julia standing alone in the center of the stone platform. With a furtive look, she confirmed that everybody else had also gone back to whatever they were doing before the little scene had started. Today was certainly proving to be too much for wanting to get away from people's attention.

The red haired nord approached her, a confident smirk tactically shoving away any evidence of his recent irritation. He'd try and talk to Mercer later, in private, see what had gotten him in such a-  _sourer_ , mood all of sudden, but he knew from past experience that it would lead nowhere. Just more dismissing silence or sudden changes of subject.

'That wasn't too bad! Oh, don't look at me like that, lass.' he laughed, making the girl give a small, tired huff, 'Really, Mercer can be a bit, eh, rough to deal with, sometimes, but believe me, that's just his way- his  _very_  unique way of encouraging the beginners. If he really didn't want you here, we wouldn't be talking right now.'

She had a lot of doubts and skepticism to answer that with, but decided to keep it to herself. Instead she brought up something that had been buggering her. 'What he said earlier, about the guild's downturn. Is that true? Are you- are  _we_ , in a bad spot?'

He shrugged one shoulder, tilting his head with a grimace. 'Eeeh- we haven't been at our best lately, you could say that. A streak of bad luck, that is all. The problem is, it's lasted long enough to harm our reputation significantly. And of course, that's translated to less coin, less respect, and less jobs.'

She nodded, deliberately widening her eyes. 'And I'm guessing you forgot to mention that detail, when you offered me the position...'

'Well, I thought that as long as there was money involved, you'd be interested. We still can pay for a job well done. And you got your cut, clean and without questions, didn't you?'

She crossed her arms. 'Well. Yes...! But, you were talking about me as if- as if I was the solution for all your problems-' Brynjolf was already gesturing at her to drop the subject, waving his hand and shaking his head, but she continued, '-and I'm sorry, but I've never even suggested that I could take care of whatever is the problem. Single-handedly...!'

'Julia, Julia, Juuulia! Forget about that, alright? Mercer was just stretching my words- what I did say, is that a new face, a new  _student_  eager to learn the way of the thief is just what we might need around here, to bring back some enthusiasm, understand?' he was about to put an arm around her shoulders, pure force of habit, stopping himself just in time and resting a hand on her shoulder instead. 'So that's all you have to do. Train hard, complete little jobs, nothing too complicated but very well paid. And I'm sure things will start looking up on their own accord.'

She pursed her lips, dragging an exhale and nodding her surrender. An ugly cough burst its way through abruptly, startling the old thief. She raised a balled up fist, covering her mouth.

'Right! We should do something about that, hm? Follow me.'

She rushed to catch up with his long strides, taking a different bridge than Mercer and leading her to one of the alcoves within the chamber, and took that moment to better observe the area, now that she was more or less free from stares following her every movement. It was similar to the tavern, in the way that it was circular and had a central basin - and smelled just as bad - but much bigger in space, and certainly more active. Here every alcove was occupied and lit, unlike the dilapidated and darkened ones from the last chamber, and the improvised pathway they had formed with the stone walkways and the plank suspension bridges was occupied and transited by fellow members. There was even an archery range assembled next to one of the floating crossings, near to where she stood. She took a wild guess, with what new information she had been granted, and supposed that it hadn't always been like that. Perhaps the tavern was in the past a lot more than a few tables and a wooden deck surrounded by spider webs and darkness. Not like she was dying to know. As long as she had a bed and a place where to keep her belongings, she would consider herself satisfied.

Brynjolf had guided her to the corner seemingly dedicated to diner and storage. There was a long table on the left wall of the niche, and a cupboard on the right wall, parallel to it. There were a pair of beds before the continuing bridge, to her left, and she couldn't help but stare and crave for a long, comfortable nap on an actual mattress, her poor head screaming for a decent rest, without waking up every few minutes to the sound of a branch snapping or a feral growl in the distance. She was lost in daydreaming while the redhead opened one of the cupboard's drawers and picked a small red bottle of potion.

'You're in luck, it's the last one we got.' he threw over his shoulder, and turned to face her, noticing her absorbed expression, her gaze away from him. He held back a snort and moved toward her, snapping his fingers in front of her face, successfully bringing her back to Nirn. 'Welcome back...!' he scoffed without malice, holding out the remedy, 'This should make you feel better. It's not strong, but it should be enough for a simple cold.'

She blinked a few times and took the potion from him, spinning it on her palm. 'Oh, yeah. Thank you.'

'Not a problem, lass. You shouldn't have to rent a bed when there's plenty space here for you to rest.' he smiled, and stepped to the side, extending his arm at the southern wall ahead of them, where a little passage opened. 'By the way, that ladder right there? That's the shortcut, exclusively for members. That way you don't have to cross all the way through the Ratway to get here. Practical, eh?'

She squinted her eyes to see through the dark, and detected the outline of a crooked ladder, right against the wall. The old thief patted her shoulder without warning, actually making her jerk back a little and therefore dragging another laugh from him.

'Shor's Beard, lass, you really need the sleep. Anyway, I've got things to do, so I'll leave you to get comfortable. There's a vacant bed, right next to where we came in. You got your own chest and everything. Don't forget to get your stuff from the tavern.' he let go of her shoulder with a light pat and headed to the ladder, turning his head one last time as he deftly climbed up, 'By the way, I highly recommend introducing yourself to  _the family_. They could even teach you a thing or two!'

She watched him leave the chamber, her eyes feeling heavier by the minute. Remembering about the potion, she quickly uncapped the bottle with her thumb and drunk the bitter mix, not stopping to think about its ingredients. Gods, she hated mudcrabs.

There was a creaking to her right, and her mind processed that someone was coming down from the secret passage. She coughed as the last drops made its way down her throat, a relieving sensation flooding through her sore body long before she put the bottle down with a gasp. She wiped her mouth clean, the swelling of her lower lip stinging faintly, and distractedly looked to the side, expecting to see Brynjolf back, having forgotten to say or take something. She was instead bestowed with a pretty, familiar looking face, her light eyes staring at her in disbelief. It wasn't until Julia's eyes dropped on the bruise darkening her left cheek that she finally recognized the owner. How could she forget, when it had been her own fist that had collided with the girl's face.

'You gotta be kidding me.' she murmured.

Well. There were worse ways to introduce yourself.

At least Brynjolf would be proud to know there was something where she was one step ahead: making acquaintances.


End file.
